DIVINE TEMPTATION

1

Chapter One: Stillness in Heaven

The golden fields of Heaven rippled gently under an eternal breeze. Jack sat cross-legged on a hill, watching clouds drift across an endless sky. He looked peaceful—until he nearly fell backwards laughing.

“No way,” he grinned at Castiel. “You’re telling me Balthazar tried to crash Gabriel’s meditation class… with fireworks?”

Castiel’s mouth twitched in what barely qualified as a smirk. “He called it performance-based enlightenment. Gabriel didn’t agree. There was shouting. And glitter.”

Jack chuckled, eyes lighting up with that familiar, innocent mischief. “That’s amazing. I wish I’d seen that.”

“You didn’t miss much. Raphael had to clean it up. He’s still… not thrilled.”

Jack leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the blue sky overhead. “He never is.”

They sat in silence for a moment, watching a pair of seraphim in the distance arguing about flower arrangements. Castiel finally spoke again, quiet and measured.

“You seem lighter today.”

Jack gave a half-smile. “Yeah. Maybe.” He paused. “Or maybe I’m just trying to fake it until I make it.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Fake what, exactly?”

“The not-being-lonely part,” Jack admitted, softer now. “I mean—I’m God. I can go anywhere, do anything. I talk to humans every day. I spend time with angels, spirits… but it still gets quiet sometimes. Like, really quiet.”

Castiel looked at him with deep, fatherly concern. “You’re not meant to be alone, Jack. No one is. Not even you.”

“I know,” Jack said, then tried to laugh it off. “I’m just being weird.”

“You’re not weird,” Castiel replied gently. “You’re human. That part of you still matters.”

Before Jack could respond, a glowing orb zipped toward them. A young angel appeared beside Castiel, looking anxious.

“Forgive me—Castiel, we need your help. There’s a structural inconsistency in the Hall of Records.”

Castiel gave Jack a look, half apology, half reluctance.

“Go,” Jack nodded. “I’ll be fine. Try not to let Raphael redesign Heaven while you’re gone.”

“No promises,” Castiel said, vanishing in a soft flutter of wings.

Jack sat alone now, the silence wrapping around him again. He let out a breath and stood, walking toward a glistening pathway that led through a field of blooming stardust flowers. It brought him to his favorite place in all of Heaven—his personal garden.

There, time moved even slower. Trees whispered ancient truths, rivers hummed like lullabies. Jack lowered himself onto a stone bench, closed his eyes, and listened.

The voices came to him like warm static—soft prayers, silent thoughts, aching hopes whispered into the void. Jack heard them all. He always did.

“Thank you for getting my dad through surgery.”
“Please watch over my daughter at school.”
“I don’t know if you’re real… but I hope you are.”

Jack smiled.

He loved humans. Not in some abstract, divine sense—but in that deep, quiet way where every little voice mattered. Every small thank-you, every desperate plea, every whispered secret—they all felt like pieces of a story he never got tired of reading.

Chuck—his grandfather—had interfered too much. Jack had learned from that. He didn't send plagues. He didn’t flood towns or drop lightning bolts just because someone sinned. Humans made their own mistakes—and they paid their own prices.

“I’m not here to punish you,” he whispered into the garden air. “You already do that to yourselves.”

Earth kept spinning. Lives kept unfolding. Jack guided from afar, like a gentle nudge in the right direction when someone asked. That was all. He had closed the gates of Hell. No more demons roaming free. Angels only visited when truly summoned. And monsters?

Well... monsters were tricky.

Jack had offered to wipe them all out. To cleanse the Earth and give hunters peace. But Sam Winchester—now retired, finally graying, and running a bookshop in Kansas—had surprised him.

“Some people need the hunt, Jack,” Sam had said. “It’s what gives them meaning. Structure. Purpose. You take that away, and you’re not saving them—you’re taking away the only thing they know how to do.”

So Jack had compromised. A few monsters, here and there. Just enough for the seasoned hunters to stay sharp, to have their purpose. Not enough to be a threat. Not anymore.

“Balance,” Jack murmured to himself. “It’s all about balance.”

He leaned back, letting the garden soothe him. He could stay here for hours. Maybe he would. Tomorrow he could check in on Earth, maybe see how that group of hunters in Norway were handling the rogue Djinn. Or—

Jack’s head tilted suddenly.

A new voice. Faint. Unsteady. Breaking through the calm like a raindrop on glass.

“…please, someone… anyone… I—I don’t know who you are, but I need help. I’m sorry. For everything. For the people I hurt. For the lives I took. I didn’t want this. I didn’t—please… don’t let me die like this…”

Jack’s eyes widened.

He heard prayers every day. But this—this one hit him. Raw. Honest. Frantic. It wasn’t rehearsed, or polished. It was real. And it came from a heart that had never prayed before.

She was terrified.

Without thinking, Jack stood. The world around him paused.

He focused on the voice, on the signature of the soul behind it. Young. Brave. Broken—but not beyond repair.

Slovenia.

He smiled softly.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Let’s go meet her.”